User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Red Tables/@comment-2246928-20141111003147/@comment-2246928-20141203215059

She scrunched up her nose in disgust. "We can't stay up here forever, Birne. We're going to have to bring the fight to them eventually." She shifted her position, obsessively looking over the ramparts and across the woods outside. "Sooner better than later. We've got the troops, the weaponry, the experience. What do they have? Vermin soldiers? A ferret with a mutated paw?"

The squirrel and the mole continuously watched the Abbess and the young squirrel from their position, careful to be noticed at the very minimum and casually glancing away whenever they were. The squirrel scratched an ear, and the mole whistling a poem he had recited the Autumn past. As innocent as Abbots.